Hovering on the Edge
by littlespider
Summary: An alternate ending to Ep 2.18 "Behind the Blue Line." The events of the day leave Sam hovering on the edge. Rated for future language and mentions of suicide.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I've been rewatching all of the seasons of _Flashpoint_, and finally decided to write an alternate ending to 2.18 "Behind the Blue Line." Sam seemed pretty emotional, so I find it hard to believe that one conversation with Ed was all that it took to pull him back from the edge. Hence this angsty, dramatic little fic.

This is my first time writing for _Flashpoint_ (which, disclaimer, I don't own!), so please be kind if you review. New chapter up soon!

* * *

_"I don't belong here."_

Sam's words lingered heavily in Ed's mind even as he sat next to Greg at their favorite bar, the beer in front of him half gone. He sighed for what felt like the millionth time since they'd clocked out, and Parker sent him a sidelong glance.

"What's on your mind, Ed?"

"Did I make the right call?"

Now it was Greg's turn to sigh. "You can't second guess yourself in this job, Eddie, you know that."

"I know, I know. I just keep seeing the look on Sam's face." Ed paused to take a sip of his drink. "I keep wondering whether he was right, whether we should have given him another chance…"

"Eddie, you did exactly what you were supposed to do. Sam would have been shot if you didn't."

Ed turned guiltily to his boss. "He cleaned out his locker, Greg."

"He's had a rough day, that's all," Greg shrugged, although he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Ed. "We've all felt like throwing in the towel at one point or another. Give him a couple of days to cool off."

Ed nodded in acquiescence, though the knot of unease that had settled in his stomach didn't ease in the slightest.

* * *

Midnight found Ed driving around aimlessly, still too amped up to go home. With any luck, Sophie and Clark would be asleep already and he wouldn't be missed. The last thing he wanted was to bring home a ton of negative energy and ruin their evening as well.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

His phone vibrated on the seat next to him, and he switched on the speakerphone. "Hello?"

"Ed?" Jules' shaky, quiet voice sounded in his car.

Ed frowned at the tearful tone of her voice, and quickly pulled the car over so he could give her his full attention. "Jules? You okay?"

"Ed, I – oh god!" She broke down suddenly, her sobs sounding loudly in Ed's ear, making his heart beat speed up sharply.

"Jules, what happened? Where are you?"

He could hear her making a significant effort to pull herself together, though her words were still tight and breathy. "I'm at Sam's."

Ed's frown deepened, his heart now pounding fiercely. One after another, horrific scenarios flashed through his mind as he struggled to remain objective. "What happened?" he asked again.

"I just wanted to check on him, make sure he was okay. He brushed me off at the station, so I decided to come here," Jules explained, her voice strained from crying. "When I got here, no one answered the door, so I let myself in with the spare key. The place is empty, but so are the two twelve packs in the fridge."

Ed closed his eyes as Jules paused briefly. "Was his bike there, Jules?"

"No," she hiccupped. "But Ed – "

"Jules, don't worry about it. We'll call the rest of the team and find him before he does anything stupid like cause a wreck or get himself arrested."

"Ed!" Jules' now frustrated voice cut through his rambling. "I think that's the least of our worries. I checked his closet and his fatigues are missing."

Ed swore under his breath. Sam was obviously teetering on the edge of a very dark abyss right now, wandering around drunk in his military uniform. They needed to find him now. "His uniform was gone?"

"Yeah," Jules confirmed quietly, her voice sounding tired. "And so was his gun."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to _vbm_, _giggles811_, _BuBBles3531_, _arlette-sweet-heart,_ and _dawnprichard66_ for reviewing the first chapter!

Now, for those of you who already read and reviewed an entirely different second chapter... Yeah, sorry about that. _Buckeye_ pointed out to me that the SRU station wouldn't ever actually close, and that somehow made this entirely different idea pop into my head. So here is an entirely new second chapter!

Also, I don't know/remember any names of the other SRU teams, so I'm just making them up as I go.

Disclaimer: still don't own _Flashpoint_.

* * *

"About time you showed up," Winnie sighed in relief as she saw Mark, the dispatcher for the evening shift, walking towards the desk from the locker room.

Mark glanced at his watch in confusion. "What are you talking about? I'm actually early for once..."

"Never mind," Winnie shook her head, gladly relinquishing her chair and headset. "It's been a really, really long day."

After Team One had come in yelling and in utter chaos, the day had pretty much gone down hill from there. Sam Braddock had left in a huff with all of his stuff, and the station rumor mill was going full force. Team Three had possibly one of the most busy afternoons in SRU history, and all Winnie really wanted to who was go home to her cable television and a nice long bubble bath.

"Well, I'm here now, so why don't you take off?"

"You don't need to ask me twice," Winnie laughed, looking up reflexively when she heard the sound of the front door opening. To both the dispatchers' surprise, the aforementioned Sam Braddock stood in front of the desk, looking confused and out of place in his military fatigues.

Mark was the first one to speak. "Constable Braddock. Wasn't expecting to see you here tonight. Anything I can do for you?"

Sam started slightly. His bloodshot gaze slid over both of the dispatchers as if he had just noticed them. "What are you guys still doing here?"

"I was just leaving," Winnie commented lightly, though she shot Mark a concerned glance. They could smell the alcohol on him even from across the desk. "Mark's taking over at dispatch, and Team Two just got in for the night shift."

Sam's face contorted into a dark frown. "Team Two's here?"

"Sammy!" As if in answer to his question, Derrick from Team Two strolled over, still wearing his work out clothes and holding a bottle of water. Sam tensed almost imperceptibly as he approached. "What brings you back? I heard some nasty rumors, man, that you were leaving us for good."

Winnie watched Sam's face carefully; he seemed to be struggling to respond, his eyes darting back and forth between the door and the other SRU officer. A sheen of sweat broke out over his forehead, and his fingers twitched towards a large bulge in his pant leg pocket. Winnie just barely saw his fingers close around a black handle before she was sounding the alarm.

"Gun! He's got a gun!"

And before they could blink, Sam had his handgun out and pressed against the side of Derrick's face as he side stepped around the back of him. The team leader's hands went up instinctively, as did the two dispatchers'. Sam's voice shook slightly as he grabbed a handful of the other man's shirt to keep him close. "Is the rest of your team here?"

Derrick nodded carefully. "They're getting geared up. What's going on here, Sam? Is there something we can do for you, someone we can call?"

"No," Sam ground out, blinking fiercely as sweat trickled into his eyes. "But you can get the rest of your team out here and into the briefing room if you want to keep your head."

Treating Sam like any other volatile subject, Derrick did as told, calling the rest of his team out into the briefing room. They were shocked to see him held at gunpoint, and by another cop no less, but he urged them to stand down and do as he asked. Grudgingly, they all filed into the briefing room, hands raised in surrender.

"You too," Sam ordered, the gun shaking in his hand as he motioned Winnie and Mark into the briefing room as well. Hands still raised, they hurried after the others.

"Come on Sam, talk to me," Derrick tried, keeping his voice carefully nonthreatening. "What's going on? Maybe I can help. We'll deal with thido together, just you and me."

Sam snorted in an apparent moment of good humor. "Don't play me, Derrick. The only thing you can do to help me is to get in there with the rest of them and shut up."

He shoved the other cop into the briefing room, before turning and shooting out the operating panel. The heavy metal door immediately slid shut to slam against the concrete floor, effectively locking them in. Derrick really didn't like the way this was going and tried to appeal to the other man through the metal barrier.

"You've got to give me something, Sam. What do you want from us?"

The door swung violently as Sam attacked it from the other side with a strangled sound that was half scream half sob. "I just want you to LEAVE ME ALONE!"


	3. Chapter 3

So, in case you read the early version of Chapter Two and don't know this, I replaced it with a better Chapter Two, and this chapter builds off of the events there. So if you haven't read the new Chapter Two, I suggest going back to read that one before you get into this one.

Thanks for your patience everyone, and hopefully I will have one last, short chapter posted soon. Special thanks to _dawnpritchard66, giggles 811, rgs38, arlette-sweet-heart, Wootar16, _and_ Ealasaid Una_ for reviewing!

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Trust me, there' d be a lot more "Officer down!" Plotlines if Flashpoint was mine...

* * *

After looking over Sam's apartment for himself, Ed had to accept that Sam wasn't planning on coming back anytime soon and he'd better move out it he intended to find him. He opened the door and turned to reassure Jules. "Alright, thanks Jules. I've already got the rest of the team on the lookout for Sam, and I'll see if Spike can get a lock on his cell. You stay here in case he comes back."

Jules nodded. "Copy that."

As Ed headed out to the parking garage, his phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out.

"Wordy, please tell me you've got some good news."

"Sorry Ed, it's not strictly good," Wordy said on the other line, and Ed could hear the sound of the other man's car humming to life. "I just got a call from my friend Derrick on Team Two. He just saw Sam back at the barn."

"Sam's at the station?" Ed breathed a sigh of relief, swinging his car around in a looping u-turn to head towards the station. "That's great. What's the bad news?"

Wordy sighed. "The bad news is that he's currently holding two dispatchers and all of Team Two hostage in the briefing room."

"He's what?" Ed stopped short, his brain immediately kicking into overdrive. There was no way that Sam Braddock, veteran of Afghanistan and loyal cop could be holding other police officers hostage; he couldn't believe it. "What the hell's going on over there?"

"I don't know," Wordy confessed. "Derrick said that Sam seemed angry, disoriented, maybe a little bit drunk… I'm on my way over now."

"Copy that," Ed said, climbing into his own car. "I'll meet you there."

Fifteen minutes later, Wordy and Ed seamlessly entered the SRU station, off-duty sidearms drawn and held loosely in front of them. The door had been locked, but Ed's key had rendered a forceful entry unnecessary. After clearing the interior entryway, the two officers approached the metal door of the briefing room and knocked cautiously.

"Derrick? It's Wordy. How's everybody doing in there?"

Some shuffling could be heard from behind the door, and then the other team leader could be heard from directly beyond the metal. "We're good. No injuries or anything. Sam just forced us in here and shot through the control panel. The door is stuck."

Wordy glanced over at Ed, who was examining the panel and nodded in confirmation. "Okay, great. What's your assessment of Sam's mental state?"

Winnie's voice suddenly spoke up. "He seemed nervous and confused. He was sweating and shaking and it seemed like he wasn't expecting anyone to be here."

"Thanks, Winnie. You guys just sit tight, we're going to find Sam and get you guys out of there." Wordy stepped away to join Ed, who was on his cellphone.

"Okay, thanks Spike." Ed returned his phone to his pocket and turned back to his fellow officer. "The rest of the team's on the way, they're going to try and get this door open. What's your read on Sam?"

Wordy shook his head. He wasn't one of the Team's negotiators, had virtually no experience with the psychology behind it. "I don't know, Ed. He sounds confused, intoxicated, volatile… but I feel like I can't be completely objective. It's Sam, Ed."

"I know," Ed replied softly, clapping the other man on the shoulder. "Let's track him down."

The two SRU officers proceeded to slowly and carefully clear every room in the station. The gym was clear, as were the few glass holding rooms and the women's locker room. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they found that their friend was nowhere near the armory. That left the locker room, and they paused outside of it to check in with each other. Ed gave Wordy a slight nod and raised his fist in a silent countdown.

Three, two, one.

The two men burst through the door of the locker room in a single smooth, practiced motion. They didn't need to look far; Sam was sitting hunched over on the bench in front of his now empty locker, its door hanging wide open. The blonde officer had his head in his hands, a Sig-Sauer handgun gripped dangerously in his hand. Sam didn't appear to be aware that the other men had entered the room, so Ed gestured to Wordy to ease up before lowering his own handgun.

"Sam?"

Although his shoulders tensed, Sam turned slowly around to look at his team leader with dulled eyes. "Ed? Wordy? What are you doing here?"

"We heard you were getting into trouble here, Samo, and came to see if we can help," Ed replied calmly, taking a careful step closer to the other man. Sam looked at him uneasily, so he stopped. "What's going on buddy? What're you doing?"

The question seemed to make Sam agitated, because he stood abruptly and started pacing in front of his locker. His hands seemed to be shaking, but he maintained a strong grip on the gun, waving it around vaguely as he paced. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen. Nobody was supposed to be here."

"What's going to happen?" Ed prodded gently, taking another half step forward. "What were you planning on doing, Sam?"

"No," Sam ground out, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched it in frustration. The gun finally found a target, pressed against his own temple. "You don't get to ruin this. Not again."

"Woah, Sam!" Ed and Wordy exclaimed at the Sam time, although it was the team leader that tried to regain control of the situation. "Sam, you don't want to do that. Put the gun down and talk to me."

"You don't know what I want to do!" Sam yelled, still pacing back and forth slightly, despite the gun he held on himself. "You don't get to tell me what to do! Not after today."

"Today," Wordy spoke up quietly from behind Ed, and although it was normally against protocol for more than one person to engage the subject, he took over the conversation. "Today at the arena, you wanted Darren Kovacks to shoot you. You were counting on it."

Sam looked him right in the eye, his own gaze dark and haunted. "I'm a solider. I should have died over seas like the rest of them. _I don't deserve to be here_."

Those same words took on a whole new meaning, and Wordy shook his head, careful to keep his voice nonthreatening. "No Sam, you have every right to be here today. You were a soldier, but now you're a cop. You save people everyday, Sam, protect the city every day."

But Sam wasn't convinced. "No, I don't deserve to be here, not after…"

"Not after Matt," Ed finished quietly, and a flash of hurt and anger flared across Sam's face as he adjusted his grip on the gun. Panic grew in Ed's stomach that they wouldn't be able to talk him down, that they'd have to stand here and watch one of their own blow his brains out.

"Not after Matt," Sam repeated in barely more than a whisper, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He swiped at it angrily with the back of his free hand. "I killed him. His blood is on my hands, and it won't come off. There's so much blood on my hands and _it won't come off!_"

Grief seemed to wrack the young man's body, forcing him into a crouch with his back pressed up against the lockers. Ed's eyes followed the gun as it left it's position pressed up against Sam's skull to hand limply in front of him as the young officer buried his face in his arms. He resisted the urge to rush in and knock the weapon out of Sam's hand, to restrain him so that there was no chance that he'd ever be able to hurt himself. But that wasn't how real life worked, and he had to allow Sam to de-escalate at his own pace. Exchanging a look with Wordy, he nodded and dropped back a bit, allowing Wordy to continue his attempts at talking Sam down.

"Buddy, we all have blood on our hands. Unfortunately that's part of the job," Wordy replied, trying to be as calm and honest as possible. "But that doesn't make you any less of a cop or a good man. For every person you have to shoot, for every person you've killed, you've saved dozens more. And when you save one person, you save everyone attached to them, Sam. You're a savior, man."

Sam raised his head slightly, shoulders still shaking with sobs as he answered. "No, I'm not. What about all those people I haven't gotten to in time, all those people who lost someone because I couldn't find or take the shot in time? What about those kids in Khandahar who stepped on IEDs planted in the ground because I was there, in their country? What about – "

"What about the team, Sam?" Wordy interrupted, squatting down to join Sam on his level. The blonde took another shuddering breath, eyes trained on the ground. "What about all of the times you've saved one of us? Without you, Sam, we'd all have been dead a long time ago. Every single one of us – me, Ed, Spike, Jules and the Boss – we're all alive today because of _you_."

For minute the locker room was quiet, filled only with the sounds of Sam's harsh breathing. Ed was just allowing himself to believe that Wordy had done it, that they were home free when Sam stood jerkily, the gun rising to his head again.

"No," Sam choked out, his gun hand now shaking. Adrenaline surged through his team members as they stood with him, hands out placatingly. "There's too much…"

"Come on Sam, think about what you're doing here," Wordy tried, reaching out as though pure physical contact could bring him back from the edge. "Think about the team. We need you here."

Sam was shaking his head, tears still streaming down his face. "It just needs to be over, I can't – "

Ed couldn't handle it anymore; he couldn't stand around waiting for the man he considered a younger brother to end his own life. He launched himself across the small gap that separated them, tackling Sam to the ground. Sam was crying and struggling, and Wordy was yelling to try and get him to stop, and Ed couldn't help but think that this was his messiest takedown ever when a single shot went off and all three men froze.

Wordy sucked in a breath in complete anxiety. "No harm. Eddie?"

"No harm," the veteran officer responded rapidly from the ground, climbing off the now docile Sam and rolling him over. "Sam, you okay? Ah, shit!"

While he might have stopped Sam from ending it all with a headshot, he was dismayed to find a bullet wound in his leg. Blood pooled rapidly around them onto the floor and down the leg of his fatigues, staining the camouflage material a bright red. Sam simply lay there gasping in pain and shock.

"Call EMS!" Ed roared, probing gently at the wound. He was vaguely aware of Wordy speaking rapidly to the operator on his cell phone, but he had major tunnel vision around that fucking hole in Sam's leg that was letting his life leak out all over the floor. "Damn it, I think he hit an artery."

Ed all bit ripped off his belt before using it as a makeshift tourniquet for Sam's leg. The young officer let out a cry of agony as he cinched the belt as tight as possible to try and stop the bleeding. Seconds later, Wordy joined them, kneeling by Sam's side. "How's he doing?"

"Not so well, he's going to bleed out if EMS don't get their asses here now!" Ed yelled, his voice tight with exhaustion and stress.

"They said their just minutes away."

"You've gotta stay with us, Sam, you hear me? No giving up on us! Sam?!"

* * *

Review?


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, folks, last chapter! I'm feeling rather impressed with myself right now; I think this is the fastest I've ever written and posted a multi-chapter fic! Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed. The list is getting rather long so I won't name everyone, but all the reviews really did help keep my motivation up and my creativity flowing.

And if some of you were expecting a big, lovey-dovey Sam/Jules ending scene, sorry. I'm actually not a huge fan of Jules' character and feel like I wouldn't really do her justice because of that. I'm much more comfortable writing man-angst and brotherly love! :)

Enjoy, and nope, still don't own this frickin' brilliant show!

* * *

"Eddie. Wake up."

A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder, causing Ed to jerk awake, his body spasming awkwardly in the uncomfortable hospital chair. Exhaustion still lingered heavily on his mind, blurring his vision and confusing him. "Wha – what happened? Sam?"

"Sam's fine, buddy. You saved him."

Greg Parker's soft voice brought him back to reality, and Ed blinked several times to clear his vision. Even as the room around him came into focus, he found that he could only concentrate on the young man lying on the bed in front of him, an IV line trailing from one of his hands. It seemed almost eerie how calm and peaceful Sam looked. His eyes were closed in sleep and his face had completely relaxed – probably due to the painkillers the doctors had him on – and Ed was amazed at how much younger he looked. Aside from a neatly stitched and dressed bullet wound on his upper right thigh, there wasn't a mark on the young SRU officer to suggest all of the hurt and pain that he carried around with him everyday.

Ed let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and ran a rough hand over his face. "Thank God. We almost lost him, Boss."

"But we didn't," Parker replied simply, easing into the other chair by the bed. "You got to him in time."

"I wasn't really much help," Ed muttered, shame making his face flush hot as he reconsidered the events of the night before. "It was Wordy who was able to get him to focus and talk him down. The only thing I did was jump in and make everything worse."

He could feel Parker's intense gaze trained on him, but felt physically incapable of facing him right now. The other man sighed. "I have to ask, buddy, why'd you do that? You and I both know that tackling a subject with a gun is asking for trouble."

"That's just it, Greg, it wasn't a subject!" Ed shouted, before realizing how loud he'd become. Both men glanced fearfully down at their sleeping companion, but Sam was dead to the world, his body working to bounce back from the shock and stress and replenish the large amount of blood he had lost. Ed finished his explanation in a lower tone. "It wasn't a subject, it was Sam. And I couldn't handle standing there, hoping that we could stop him from doing something stupid. I couldn't, Boss."

Greg's hand came up to land on his shoulder again. "I know, Ed. At the end of the day, Sam's still alive and you've done good."

Ed nodded slightly, but he still didn't really believe it. "How did it come to this, Boss? I should have seen it, should have seen that he was hurting…"

"Come on, Eddie, you can't do that to yourself," Parker admonished. "Hell, I'm the profiler and I didn't even see it! What matters is that you were there when he needed you."

The two men lapsed into a short silence, Ed thinking the whole situation over. Intellectually, he knew that Greg was probably right. As a solider, and as a son of the not-so-compassionate General Braddock, Sam had learned how to keep his emotions under wraps a long time ago. There was probably no way anyone on the team would have known the truth about them unless he had wanted them to know. Ed sighed; given the circumstances, knowing this didn't really make him feel any better.

"So what happens now?" he asked his sergeant. "Do you have to declare him unfit for duty?"

To his surprise, Parker shook his head. "That pretty much depends on his mental state when he wakes up. With a guy like Sam, taking him off active duty pretty much sends him the message that he's as worthless as he thinks. So I'm thinking of having him take a week of personal time to get himself sorted out. I've already spoken with my old shrink, and he's willing to meet with Sam a couple of times next week and once a week for as long as necessary for him to work through this. But most of all, we need to show him that we're here for him and that we don't want him going anywhere."

Ed nodded, allowing a small smile to lift the corner of his lips. If Team One was a family and he was the protective older brother, then Greg was definitely the father figure, always checking in with everyone and making sure that they were okay. It was no wonder to Ed that the Boss had already worked out a way to get Sam the help he would need to make it through this, and to handle the whole situation calmly and in the best way possible.

Still, there was still a fear that had taken root deep inside him and made Ed never want to leave Sam's side again. "What if that's not enough? What if this happens again?"

"I don't think it will," Parker answered with such confidence that Ed turned to look at him questioningly. "Why do you think Sam decided to do it at the station, Eddie?"

Ed frowned, really thinking about it. "Actually, I still don't understand that. He knows that there's always someone there on duty, but he was acting like seeing people there was a surprise. Are you saying that he wanted to be caught and stopped?"

"Subconsciously, maybe," Greg shrugged. "All I'm saying is that, even if he'd contemplated suicide before, he'd never been able to do it. In the same way that he was hoping Darren would shoot him and take care of it for him, he went to the station looking to be noticed and saved. And that's where you and Wordy came in."

Ed had to admit, it did make sense, theory though it may be. There was one thing that he didn't quite understand. "Boss, what about his uniform?"

"Same thing as Darren. Sam sees himself as a soldier, so he wanted to die like one, like all of his friends." Parker sighed, looking down at Sam with a mixture of fondness and concern. "Sometimes it really is as simple as that."

A quite knock on the door drew their attention. Jules stood uncertainly at the door. "Hey. How's he doing?"

"He lost a lot of blood, but the doctors said he'll be just fine." Ed answered quickly, though he knew that wasn't all she was asking about. Still not trusting his judgement on Sam's mental state, he threw a look at Greg.

The older man simply nodded at Jules with a reassuring smile. "He's going to be okay, Jules. We don't have any intention of letting him go anywhere."

Apparently that was what Jules needed to hear, because she launched herself at the sergeant gratefully before enveloping Ed in an equally warm hug. He gave her a squeeze in return before heading for the door.

"Thank you," she whispered after him.

Ed didn't leave right away, instead standing just inside the doorway to watch as Jules leaned over Sam to place a kiss on his forehead. His eyes fluttered slightly as she settled back into the chair Ed had just vacated, one hand locked firmly on his while the other gently stroked his hair. Although everything about their relationship was against SRU protocols, Ed couldn't really bring himself to care. All that he saw was a loving relationship that would be the first of many things to help bring Sam back from the edge. Focusing on this, Ed took a deep breath and allowed himself to let go of tackling Sam, of all that could have possibly gone wrong.

If it meant keeping Sam alive for Jules, for himself, and for the team, he'd gladly do it all over again.


End file.
